When it Rains
by anonymouth
Summary: "We need the rain, first. That's why it rains. So that when the sun does shine, slowly, it'll seem all the brighter, and we'll all be lighter for it. Eventually." After the Battle, Hermione and Minerva meet in the Boathouse.
1. Chapter 1

_The sun isn't shining, _was Hermione's first thought as she stood in the giant doorway of Hogwarts' front entrance, haloed by a dense smoke still rising from the partially gutted Entrance Hall. She stared at the looming sky, the smell of rain just discernible over fire, ash and death as she picked her way along the path, her thoughts jagged, her body sore.

She'd slipped away from the Weasley's, a squeeze to Ron's shoulder allowing him to not have to worry about her, too. They were a show of solidarity, even now, as they silently grieved, comforting each other without words. It only served to make Hermione feel more solitary, their love weighing as heavily on her soul as the cloying blackness still mugging the castle. She couldn't pinpoint her feelings, which left her usually organised brain even more fraught, her nerves frayed. She didn't want to feel lonely, yet she couldn't be around people. People, for now, meant having to analyse, to count. Looking at George meant looking for Fred. If that was Parvati, then where was Padma? Being in the castle meant her whole life flashing before her eyes, and the last few hours of darting flashes of green and screaming children playing on a loop in every corner. There was nowhere left inside to hide from it.

Her pace quickened as the smoking ruins of Hagrid's Hut invaded her vision, the booming of explosions causing her to cover her ears as she began to run. She ran and ran, tears streaming until, lungs burning, she stopped and screamed. Birds flew from the trees, cawing, as Hermione's voice echoed over the grounds. When her voice cracked, she fell to her knees, hands clawing at the rubble, throwing stones and rocks, ignoring the pain in her hands. Sweat gathering on her forehead, she stumbled to her feet, hands shaking as she held them out, earth and stone rising as it gathered pace into a raging hurricane. She wanted everything to shatter, to see the outside world explode into a million spiky shards to match her own. Instead, with a final scream, the debris flew through the air and crashed into a nearby tree, thumping to the ground in time with Hermione's sobs.

She stared vacantly for long moments, before wiping her hand over her brow and along her trousers, not caring what they were covered in anymore.

Her hand closed over the lump in her pocket, and she pulled out her mokeskin bag, remembered stuffing it in her pocket when the strap broke in a physical scrap with a Slytherin. She saw the green and silver as it loomed over her, stealing her breath. Diving into the bag, she rummaged for a while until her hand closed around the neck of a bottle. It was one of the many things she'd packed that they hadn't used on the run, and though she'd intended it for medical use, now she swiftly unscrewed the cap and took a hearty swallow, coughing at the unexpected burn.

Scarcely caring where she ended up, she found herself negotiating the steps down towards the boathouse. At the harbour, she slid down the cool rock wall and brought her knees up to her chest, staring at the lone boat rocking gently in the ripples from the Black Lake. She had thought that silence would help; that to get away from everything would rid her mind of the noise, at least, but it increased tenfold with nothing else to distract her. She tried to stifle a sob with another long swig from the bottle, welcoming the burn this time. She let her head fall back, finding a jagged piece of rock. She dragged her head along it, resisting the urge to pull away. Pain was welcome; it was here, now, and real. She laughed cruelly at herself, falling apart here, just outside of this ramshackle building. Her laugh turned into another sob, and she held the bottle between her knees as she swiped viciously at her eyes.

"Best to leave it out, dear,"

Hermione jumped at the unexpected voice, reflexes mastered over the past few months meaning her wand was palmed before she'd even registered who the person was.

"Easy, Miss Granger,"

Hermione squinted as her eyes focused on Minerva McGonagall, sliding down the wall next to her. She let out a breath, allowing her wand to rest next to her, and her hands to once again clasp the bottle. Hermione shifted her head to the side to get a better look at the other witch. Though bruised, dirtied and dishevelled, Hermione couldn't contain the relief that flooded through her at seeing the venerable woman alive, in one piece.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," she breathed. She didn't blush as Minerva quirked her eyebrows.

"And that fine Scotch you're ruining has obviously gone to your head," Minerva quipped, unjamming the bottle from between Hermione's knees, and replacing it with one produced from under her own arm, half filled with clear liquid.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, a modicum of surprise lacing her tone.

Minerva smiled ruefully.

"Much the same as you, I expect." She sighed when that met with Hermione's expectant silence. "Trying to forget, and making myself remember. Drinking too much and caring too little. Or, if you were looking for a literal answer - swapping my tasteless Vodka for your much more refined beverage."

Hermione eyed the bottle as she brought it to her lips.

"You seem to have done alright with it so far. And tasteless is good."

Minerva mm'ed.

"All it shall bring is regret and a headache, regardless of the taste."

Hermione shrugged. "Then why are you doing it?"

Minerva closed her eyes momentarily, but biting her lip, she quickly opened them again.

"Because there's nothing else I can do. Not today."

* * *

The sat silently, each lost in their own thoughts, both taking comfort from the steady breathing of the other. Clouds seemed to gather over the castle, making it impossible now to differentiate between them and the rising smoke. Minerva resolutely kept her vision anywhere but the skyline. She focused on Hermione as she gave a ragged sigh.

"It's not sunny," Hermione murmured, turning her cheek slightly so that it rested on Minerva's shoulder. Drawn to the comforting warmth seeping through her tattered robe, Minerva relaxed, shifted her arm so that it rested behind Hermione's neck.

"Hmm?" she questioned, her hand beginning to idly stroke Hermione's hair.

"In all the films, the war films, books, and all that. The awful things happen in the dark, or the rain, or both. Sometimes a storm just picks up for no other reason than it adds to the bleakness of battle. Then, when it's over, the sun comes out. It's an awful cliché, I know, but I was hoping if it did… I don't know. I guess I was hoping that if the sun came out now, it'd make everything… it'd make me feel normal again."

Minerva sighed and geld Hermione's head tighter to her.

"It will. And at first, you'll feel its warmth, and you'll smile. Then you'll remember, and wonder how nature can be so cruel - how can the sun blaze when everything is still in ruins? You'll wonder how on earth you can let ourself be warm and happy again when so many lives have been lost, or irrevocably changed. Guilt will creep in, and it will keep you frozen, despite the bluest of skies. You'll wish for grey and rail at the sun."

Hermione shifted and Minerva's grip loosened enough to let Hermione catch the far away look in her eyes.

"Does it ever get better?" she whispered, prepared for the answer.

Minerva weighed her words.

"We need the rain, first. That's why it rains. So that when the sun does shine, slowly, it'll seem all the brighter, and we'll all be lighter for it. Eventually."

Hermione nodded, and almost smiled when she felt the first few drops of rain on her head.

"So sayeth Professor McGonagall," she quipped, raising her bottle to the woman, and polishing it off in a couple of gulps. Minerva tipped her head and did the same. Just as they tossed their bottles aside, the clouds above opened and within seconds, the two women were drenched. Minerva was the first to gather her wits and clamber to her feet, pulling Hermione with her. They half-ran, half-stumbled into the relative shelter of the boathouse and turned to look at the torrential downpour in awe.

"You're shivering," Hermione noted, turning in the grip that Minerva had on her arm and the back of her jacket. Seeing the woman fully for the first time, Hermione's breath caught in her throat. Her eyes raked over every inch of Minerva's body, from her completely disintegrated bun down, examining every tear in material for a wound underneath. Not satisfied, she began to peel Minerva's robe away from her, until Minerva's hands tightened on her forearms. Hermione looked up to meet questioning eyes, and she slowly raised her hand to pull away strands of hair from Minerva's cheek and wipe away the dirt and blood that was trickling from her forehead with the sheer amount of rain dripping from her hair.

"You're ok?"

Understanding, Minerva shifted and shucked her outer robe to the floor. Indicating her torso, clad in a sensible if slightly damp vest and trousers, she answered, "Nothing a warmer soak than this won't cure,"

She smiled as Hermione's face relaxed, and the brunette gingerly moved closer, twining shaking hands behind Minerva's neck. Gently, she pulled, until Minerva, too, brought her hands unsteadily around Hermione's waist and held her gently.

Hermione breathed deeply, trying to get her emotions under control.

"I think I'm still terrified," she breathed, scrunching her eyes tight as she committed the smell of rain, mingled with Minerva's neck, to memory, trying to burn away the stench of death that had clung to her for hours.

Minerva squeezed her tightly, before pulling back and forcing Hermione to meet her eyes.

"The bravest, wisest people often are after battle," she responded. "And you, Hermione, are one of the bravest and wisest there is."

Hermione let out a shaky breath.

"You never answered my question,"

Minerva frowned.

"Which one?"

"Does it get better?"

Minerva sighed, stroking Hermione's cheek.

"For a while, nothing will seem like it will ever get better. Then, you start waking up and things are… different. Different things start coming together, and before you know it, it's not the same as it has been for days, or weeks, or even months. We all have our demons, and that won't change. But they stop needling us at every opportunity, and that… that is better."

Hermione nodded.

"Thank you, for being honest."

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to Minerva's cheek, lingering for moments longer than she knew was appropriate, even in her inebriation. Pulling back, she saw the faint glimmer on Minerva's face before the woman tried to retreat behind a semblance of her former self. Minerva's hand came to her cheek again, and with one finger, she guided Hermione's sopping chunk of hair behind her ears. Hermione held her hand in place, and guided her lips towards Minerva's palm. She felt Minerva's pulse jump beneath her fingers. The rain changed direction and showered them through the unglazed windows and doors. As the sky rumbled, Hermione pressed forward, placing the hint of a kiss on Minerva's lips. She pulled back slightly, nose-to-red-nose with Minerva. They searched each others eyes for what seemed like an age, until the sky crashed again, the rain swept through the boathouse, and Minerva captured Hermione's lips with her own.

They stumbled backwards until Hermione hit the wall of the boathouse, wrenching her lips away from Minerva's, gasping. Minerva's mouth immediately sought Hermione's neck as her head fell back, nipping and licking. She fumbled with the zip of Hermione's jacket until, frustrated, she pulled back and pinned Hermione with almost feral green eyes. Hermione got the message and shrugged her jacket to the floor, yanked her t-shirt and bra off and threw them aside, panting as Minerva also raised her arms to divest herself of her vest.

Minerva placed her hands on the wall, inches above Hermione's head.

"God, I need you," she almost growled, face merely a breath away from the other woman. Hermione's eyes dropped between Minerva's eyes and lips, hands shaking as she brought them to Minerva's breasts, still clad in a by now almost see-through white lace.

"I… I need you, too."

Minerva didn't hesitate as she captured Hermione's lips, devouring her mouth and causing Hermione's hands to fall uselessly at her side. She moaned and writhed as Minerva's mouth journeyed along her jaw and neck, and both their knees almost buckled when Minerva took her breast in her mouth, sucking it, hard, then flicking at her nipple. Hermione's mouth fell open and her hands fisted Minerva's hair as the witch continued to lavish attention on her breasts, causing sensations she had never before experienced low in her belly.

"Oh, God!" she cried, and Minerva hissed as Hermione scratched at her neck and shoulders, urging her on. Minerva dropped to her knees and immediately peeled Hermione's jeans and knickers down. Hermione kicked them to one side, after fumbling with her shoes, and Minerva cupped her thighs, staring, awestruck, at the sight in front of her. She reverently kissed Hermione's stomach, before trailing lower, dipping her tongue into the grooves of Hermione's pelvis. Hermione arched, her hands once again finding leverage in Minerva's hair.

Deep, almost black orbs pierced her own, and she pushed Minerva's temples with her thumbs, gently.

"Please,"

Minerva kissed and licked each thigh, until her own need and Hermione's keening pushed her to the edge, and she flattened her tongue against Hermione's slit and licked, soft and long. Hermione almost bent over double until her breathing got the sensations under control. She shifted her legs, and Minerva draped her calf over her shoulder, holding her firmly by the hips as her tongue firmly entered Hermione, drawing out the copious moisture she found there and laving it all over Hermione's cunt.

Hermione's mouth fell open in a silent scream, until Minerva's tongue flicked once, softly over her clit, and Hermione's hips bucked hard enough to almost throw Minerva away and she gasped, repeatedly. Minerva paused in her ministrations and watched, fascinated, as Hermione became wetter, her thighs beginning to tremble.

"Please!" Hermione choked, urging Minerva's head closer to where she wanted it. "Please, don't stop."

Minerva raised her tongue to circle Hermione's clit, swiping over it in random patterns. Hermione's hips gyrated, trying to find a rhythm . She cried out, her back arching as Minerva's tongue drove her to the edge of her sanity, making her forget everything but the ache spreading from between her legs all through her body. Minerva used her tongue to enter Hermione once again, relishing the different taste as Hermione's arousal had built. She could feel her inner walls fluttering as she pushed her tongue as far as she could, in, out, in, out, until she gave in to Hermione's cries and pressed her tongue against her clit before flicking it, fast with the tip of her tongue. Hermione's hips jerked, her thighs clenched quickly and rhythmically around Minerva's head. Her head fell back and she chanted mindlessly to the rafters as Minerva rolled her tongue ceaselessly, hitting the right spot time and time again. Hermione was forced to clamp her eyes shut as she held on to Minerva's head, blood pounding in her ears, struggling for breath as waves of ecstasy rolled through her. Minerva's tongue held on, guiding her through her orgasm, and bringing her back to reality. She could feel her desire building again as Minerva's tongue licked softly around her clit and her thighs.

Hermione's hands untangled from Minerva's hair and pulled at her neck.

"Come up here," she managed, quite breathlessly.

"Nnh. Want more," Minerva mumbled, not pausing in her ministrations.

Hermione almost let Minerva continue, but the need to touch the other woman was overwhelming, and Minerva eventually gave in and kissed her way back up Hermione's body.

Their lips met, Hermione groaning and the slippery wetness of both Minerva and herself that she found there. She cupped Minerva's breasts roughly through their fabric, causing Minerva to rip away her lips to moan. Garnering her strength, Hermione pushed away from the wall and reversed their positions, pushing herself flush to Minerva's body.

"I need to see you," she panted into Minerva's ear, sending goosebumps down Minerva's arms. Minerva forced her eyes open.

"You don't have to… do that," her ragged voice belied her words. Hermione answered by pulling down the straps to Minerva's bra and pinning her with a molten gaze.

"I want to… I _need _to."

Not waiting for Minerva to move, Hermione forced her bra down to her waist, and pulled it down her legs along with her trousers. She fumbled with Minerva's shoes, until Minerva creased her brow and waved her hand, and her remaining clothes vanished.

Hermione smiled as she captured Minerva's lips once again, losing herself in the sensation of feeling Minerva's naked body against her own, her nipples pebbling in her palms.

The rain swept in sheets through the open doors. Hermione's hands slid easily over Minerva's body, stopping at her hips and pulling them tight towards her. Their thighs slid until they were between each others, both gasping as wetness met firm muscles. They moved slowly together, Hermione nipping at Minerva's shoulder as her right hand continued to caress her breast. Hermione trailed nips and bites back to Minerva's mouth, meeting her tongue forcefully. Minerva pulled Hermione's bum so that they meshed harder together, but eventually ripped her lips away from Hermione's, groaning. Hermione shifted her legs and let her hand drop to Minerva's pubic bone, where she massaged, gingerly heading lower.

"What do you want?" she whispered in Minerva's ear. "Tell me… _show me."_

Minerva shivered and moaned as Hermione's timbre, then her words travelled through her.

"Hermione," she rasped, lacing her fingers with Hermione's. Their hands travelled towards Minerva's cunt, Hermione's knees quivering at the heat and wetness she found there. Minerva pressed Hermione's hand against her lips, then let her hand fall as Hermione twitched her fingers and electric shot through Minerva's body.

Hermione's fingers slipped easily passed Minerva's lips. Her head fell again onto Minerva's shoulder as she slid through Minerva's heat for the first time, exploring all the contours until Minerva was writhing.

"Please," Minerva pushed herself into Hermione. "Please, I need you."

"_Show me,_" Hermione insisted.

Minerva kissed Hermione thoroughly as she retook her hand and, fingers on top of Hermione's, guided her to her aching clit. She rubbed Hermione's middle finger along the side of her clit, alternating between pressing hard and swiping softly, until they were both keening into each others mouths. Hermione pulled their hands away, eliciting a frustrated moan from Minerva, which was immediately changed when Hermione, fascinated by the stickiness coating their hands, brought Minerva's fingers to her mouth. Minerva's hips bucked, searching for contact as Hermione sucked each of her digits before placing Minerva's hand on her breast. Hermione arched into the contact as Minerva automatically began to massage it, spreading her wetness over and around Hermione's nipple. Before she got too lost in Minerva's ministrations, she brought her hand back to Minerva's clit and resumed the rhythm Minerva had set, gasping as she felt how swollen Minerva had become. Minerva lifted up her leg, hooking it around Hermione's waist, searching for leverage.

"More," Minerva panted, "Please, faster!"

Hermione complied, bringing another finger to rest on Minerva's clit and flicking hard and fast. Minerva cried out, her leg pulling Hermione even closer to her.

"There?" Hermione asked, drowning in Minerva's facial expressions.

"Yes! God, yes! There! Yes!"

Hermione felt Minerva's stomach flutter, and an ache began to grow in her own. No sooner than she began longing for more, Minerva's movements changed.

"Inside!" Minerva commanded, her voice and eyes turned to molten lava. "Go inside, I need you inside!"

Hermione immediately thrust two fingers inside Minerva, momentarily stilling any movements from the older witch. She breathed deeply as she adjusted to the new, almost overwhelming sensation of being buried inside Minerva, before she began to slowly thrust her fingers, pressing at Minerva's walls as she moved.

Minerva cried out, her hands grabbing Hermione's shoulders in a vice, her eyes rolling.

Hermione sped up her thrusts along with the jerking of Minerva's hips, squeezing her own thighs together.

"Oh, fuck!" Minerva ground out, and Hermione's legs almost went from underneath her at the sound. "Fuck… there... Yes… Herm… oh, Jesus fucking Christ, yes!"

Minerva kept up her nonsensical cries. Hermione easily slipped another finger inside Minerva, and manoeuvred her thumb over Minerva's clit, pressing hard with every thrust.

Minerva's eyes opened wide, her breath caught in her throat as she drowned in the feelings coursing through her, and the flushed, sticky body glued to her own. Her hips jerked, the "oh's" ripped from her throat almost involuntarily. Hermione kept up her rhythm as best she could as Minerva's walls swelled up and her movements became erratic. She moaned, long and loud along with Minerva as a gush of wetness spread from her fingers, down over her entire hand. Unable to stop herself any longer, Hermione squeezed her thighs harder and shook as her orgasm rippled through her. She collapsed forward onto Minerva, her hand still buried inside her.

"Did you…?" Minerva drawled, opening her eyes lazily.

Hermione nodded.

"I didn't even touch you."

Hermione smiled, lifting her head up to drink in the sight before her.

"I didn't need you to touch me. Look at you… my God, I could come just from looking at you, never mind touching you. You're amazing."

Minerva shook her head, then mustered some energy to capture Hermione's lips.

"You're amazing."

They kissed languidly, until Hermione gingerly flexed her fingers. Minerva immediately arched, inhaling sharply.

"Hermione, I don't think I can…"

The small twitching of her stomach belied her words. Hermione allowed all emotion to pour into her eyes as she stared into Minerva's. With her free hand, she held Minerva's, and trailed it slowly down her own body until she pushed Minerva's fingers inside, where she was already throbbing again.

"Try," Hermione whispered, as they began to move together.

And Minerva did.

* * *

Minerva blinked slowly, trying to gather her bearings. It was dark and gloomy, but Minerva knew it wasn't yet night. She groaned as she stretched, aching from battle and…

She stilled, turning her head, dread filling her as she took in the sight of Hermione, sprawled on the hastily conjured blanket next to her. The immediate jolt of arousal was dampened as guilt coursed through her. She rose to her feet, wand in hand as she hastily conjured her clothes and waved her hair up. Her inclination to flee back to what remained of the castle was strong, but she hesitated as her fingers unconsciously traced her lips, her neck. As if sensing the shift in the balance of the environment, Hermione stirred, her eyes opening blearily.

"What… Minerva?"

Minerva sighed, rubbing her hand over her face.

"I must return to the castle," Minerva said. "People will have noticed my absence by now."

Hermione sat up, noting the way Minerva averted her eyes.

"Me too, I suppose."

She stumbled to her feet, fighting a wave of nausea.

"Ugh, I don't want to touch alcohol again for a while."

Minerva smiled tightly.

"I told you all it will bring is regret and a headache."

Hermione paused, then continued to pull on her clothes, a drying charm already in place.

"I have the headache," she replied, cautiously. "And you?"

Minerva finally turned to face the other woman, her expression tinged with sadness.

"I shouldn't have done what I did."

Hermione tried to control the shaking she felt inside.

"You regret it."

"I wanted to forget, everything. You were here, we had both been drinking, and I took advantage of that. That's what I regret."

Hermione shook her head.

"If you are guilty of taking advantage, then so am I. Nothing happened that neither of us didn't want."

Minerva sighed again.

"Things happen in the heat of the moment; in the relief and terror and adrenalin that follows battle. I am sorry, that it happened with me."

Hermione shook her head more emphatically.

"No. No, you do not get to do this. I know my own mind, and you do not get to dismiss it now, just because you're sober and on your high and bloody mighty horse."

Minerva turned to leave.

"I didn't fuck you, just because you were here,"

Minerva froze.

"I didn't fuck you," Hermione added quietly. "And I don't think it was just a quick release fuck for you, either."

Minerva flinched at how crass Hermione sounded. She turned back around, her heart breaking at the sight of the woman standing defiantly before her, trying to keep the fear out of her eyes.

"No, you're right, it wasn't," Before Hermione could let out her breath, Minerva continued. "But when you look back, it'll be nothing more. When you are living your life to the full with people who can give you everything, you may look back on a fond memory of a time out of place. Not a "quick fuck". But yet, nothing more by then, either."

Hermione tried to bite her lip against the forming tears.

"Please," she whispered. "Please, don't leave me. I can't do this!"

Minerva caved and pulled Hermione towards her, holding her as tightly as she could.

"And that's why I can't stay," she breathed, kissing Hermione's head. She pulled back to stroke her cheek. "Things will be different now, disjointed for a while. I'll be your anchor, but I'll weigh you down, in the end, and instead of happiness, there'll be bitterness at what you could have had, could have done, if only I had let you go. So that's what I'm doing."

Hermione held Minerva's hand to her cheek.

"I don't have enough fight left," she sobbed.

Minerva smiled, gently pulling her hand away.

"Then don't fight me. Save it for going to capture your life."

With a last look, Minerva headed briskly for the boathouse steps, and forced herself not to look back at Hermione, where she stood, statuesque, for a long time, surrounded by the memories of broken dreams. The heavens opened, and it poured.

* * *

**AN: There was a prompt a while back, given by MegaNerdAlert in the HG/MM fan club Facebook group. It went as follows:**

_The day after the battle of Hogwarts, it downpours. Minerva and Hermione both happen to be down in the Boathouse by the lake when the rain starts. They also had both gone down there with a bottle of the alcohol of their choice, each hoping to drink in solitude. On top of getting drunk, the two witches end up finding other means of comfort._

**I was hit by inspiration, which has been somewhat lacking of late, so I hope this is ok. There will be another chapter.**


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione's jaw ached. She tried for the umpteenth time to unclench it, but every time she marginally relaxed, anxiety would needle at her heart again and her teeth clamped together. She stared at herself in the mirror, forcing herself to keep looking when normally by now she would have turned away. She concentrated on her eyes, and found she no longer recognised the being she found in them. Perhaps other people saw her differently, she mused. Perhaps that's why no one had ever said anything. Or perhaps, she had always been this way, and she was only just recognising it for herself. Somehow, she thought not. She remembered a time where looking at herself hadn't brought such sadness. She turned away from her reflection, picked up her bag and left her bedroom.

"Ready?" Ron asked, as she trundled down the stairs.

"As I'll ever be," she mumbled, grabbing a light jacket suited to the overcast day. She took Ron's arm and concentrated on the apparition point just outside the boundaries of Hogwarts. In the blink of an eye, they were there.

Ron nudged her shoulder when she stood still, keeping her eyes closed for a moment longer than necessary. She smiled somewhat glumly.

"It'll be fine, you know," he encouraged as the gates slowly opened to admit them. "Just like last time."

Hermione's smile tightened.

"Yeah," she replied, absently. "Just like last time."

* * *

_*5 years ago*_

"We don't have to go," Ron said as he wrapped his arms around Hermione. He kissed the top of her head.

Hermione laughed. "Oh yes we do! Can you imagine the headlines, the talk? Not to mention…" a shudder went through her as she mock-whispered, "Your mother!"

Ron laughed. "Well, when you put it like that! Come on, then. If we're going, I'd rather not be late."

They stood for a few moments, staring up at the entrance gates, until they opened enough for them to begin their journey along the path to the castle.

"Does it feel weird to you, coming back?" Ron asked, grinning at the first glimpse of the castle. Hermione's eyes wandered along the path, in the direction of the boathouse steps. Her breathing faltered, and she momentarily leant heavily on Ron's arm.

"In a way," she whispered, failing miserably at keeping her voice steady. "It feels like a part of me never left."

Ron, lost in his own memories, didn't pick up on the wistfulness of Hermione's answer.

"Yeah," he said, smiling sadly. "I know what you mean."

Hermione squeezed his hand as they entered the castle and made their way towards the Great Hall.

No sooner had they entered, than they were bustled back out again by Molly, out to the grounds by the Black Lake to assist Harry and Ginny with last minute preparations. They were kept so busy that Hermione almost forgot her nerves, forgot that she would still have to face the woman that had somehow managed to avoid her for the last five years. After setting out a few extra chairs and double checking that all charms were in place to protect them from the unpredictable weather, the small group relaxed for a few minutes before the real bustle began. Just as Hermione was beginning to let down her guard, her skin prickled. Holding her breath, she turned her head slowly. She had expected to see the venerable Headmistress walking down towards them in the lane between the chairs, but she hadn't been prepared for the exact effect it would have on her. Her heart skipped several beats, and she had to concentrate very hard on her breathing to bring it back under control.

Minerva nodded at the four.

"Molly informs me that you all have three minutes to smarten yourselves up."

Everyone rolled their eyes good-naturedly as they dragged themselves up. Despite her best efforts, Hermione couldn't completely conceal the shaking of what felt like every inch of her being.

Ron's voiced concern brought all eyes towards her.

"I'm fine," she insisted. "Just…" she waved her hand about, "This. All of this. It's a bit overwhelming."

They all nodded, except Minerva, who held Hermione's eyes for a fraction of a second before looking away. Hermione sighed raggedly, allowing her trembling hand to be taken by Ron's. They made their way up to the dais, where chairs were lined up behind a podium. With several minutes to spare before the rest of the wizarding world descended on them, Hermione was forced to endure listening to small talk with Minerva, as she caught up on the lives of her former students. Hermione became absorbed in listening to Minerva's voice. She closed her eyes, blotting out the words but allowing the lilt and cadence to wash over her. Her heart ached as she remembered that voice, whispering in her ear, words for her only. She sighed raggedly and tore her eyes open, only to be pierced by sparkling green, tinged with sadness. Hermione opened her mouth, not sure what she was about to do or say, only thinking that she could no longer sit and pretend that this woman was the same to her as she was to her other former students. She was stopped by Harry's voice.

"People are arriving."

She closed her eyes in resignation as they moved to greet the ministry officials, and forced herself back into the moment.

As Headmistress of Hogwarts, Minerva took to the stand first to address the crowd. A Sonorus charm ensured that her voice reached even up to the castle.

Hermione bit at her lip to keep the tears from falling, and noted that many in the crowd were not as successful. Minerva's way with words ensured that she was addressing each individual in the crowd, whether they had fought in the Battle, lost someone in the Battle, or sacrificed something in order for the Wizarding world to rebuild and recuperate.

"It is not for me to allocate each of you with honour, or retribution, if that is what you desire. You all know what you have done, the Battles you have fought, and you do not need the words of an old woman to validate those actions or to approve your worth. Hold your heads high, remember the dead, remember their sacrifice, and yours, and live your lives with pride."

Minerva introduced Harry, and the crowd hushed once again as he cleared his throat. Hermione looked at him then, really looked, and felt her heart swell.

He addressed them quietly but clearly, the maturity of his words striking each in the crowd. Hermione's eyes glistened as she listened, almost overwhelmed by the young man stood before her, her soul aligning the little boy who, with his spiky hair and ill-fitting clothes had tackled a mountain troll, and the mature young man, who had stared death in the face and accepted it, willingly, but more than that, had professed his love to his best friend's sister, and not flinched in the face of Molly Weasley. She cried for him, and she cried to him, and when Ron took to the stand to speak for himself and her, she made no move to conceal her tears.

Ron had his own way with words; Hermione knew this, and loved him for it. If she was honest, it was one of the things that made her stay with him so long. His acceptance, even if he didn't understand.

"Hermione," he said, and she cried all the harder, "Hermione accepted everything Harry did, and she questioned it, sometimes as did I. But more than I did, she stood by him, whatever he did, whatever he thought, and whatever she thought of his thoughts and actions. I have no doubt in Harry's intentions. He is one in a million. Not even a million, a million trillion-" he stopped for titters in the audience, "Look, you know what I'm trying to say. But if it wasn't for Hermione, we wouldn't be standing here now. We might've been standing here ten, maybe fifteen, twenty years from now, but the truth is… the truth is, Hermione got us here, without her logical bloodymindedness, none of us would be stood where we are right now. So, apart from thanks, to all of you, and to her and Harry, there's not much more I want to say."

Ron looked behind him at the dais and saw everyone nodding vehemently. Hermione stood shakily to meet him at the podium. He linked his hand with hers, squeezing hard. She made no move to conceal her tears.

"I did what I had to do," she began, breathing deeply to try to contain her emotions. "And I'm not going to stand here and play it down. What we all, Harry especially, went through, was nothing short of tragic and life-altering. But I'm not going to stand here and relive it all for you, either, so anyone that has come for all the graphic details that the delightful Ms. Skeeter hasn't already provided you with, I'm sorry to disappoint. Enough reliving goes on in my mind. Today, I am here to look at you all, and remember what we were fighting for; to be thankful and remember that it was worth it. People died: good, honest people. I'm here to pledge to never forget that, and to always strive for a place where everyone can be safe and at peace, regardless of their blood status or any other differences. Thank you to each of you that are always going to contribute towards this, that will remember why along with me. To those of you that won't-" she couldn't stop her eyes from lingering briefly on the Malfoy's, who had hung somewhat back in the crowd, and didn't look half as haughty as they once had been. "-I hope you enjoy the world created for you. And I hope you see their faces, and remember those that died and those who are suffering so that you could live."

She took a deep breath, reigning in her desire to be more sharp with her words. She could feel Harry's gaze on her back, and forced herself to relax as she smiled hesitantly.

"I have wonderful friends, who have become more than family over the last years. I wouldn't be here without them. And I wouldn't be who I am without them. For which I am eternally grateful. Especially to my boys."

She turned and found herself engulfed in two pairs of bulky arms, causing her to laugh through her tears. Harry and Ron did the same. Vaguely, she became aware of the crowd cheering, and she opened her eyes to see most everyone hugging, clapping, crying, or a combination of the three. A close movement caught her attention, and she ducked under Harry's arm to see Minerva arching her wand, a phoenix blasting out in a wreath of flames flying straight up. A collective gasp rose from the crowd as the giant, majestic animal took a sweep of the grounds, before beginning to sing directly above them. Entranced, the crowd quieted, watching as the phoenix's wings rippled with golden colours. Hermione found herself stood right next to Minerva as everyone shifted for a better view. She let her hand drop, shaking, and gingerly latched her baby finger onto Minerva's. She took a ragged breath as she felt the slightest pressure back, and let the tears fall. The phoenix soared, and erupted, lighting the sky and showering the grounds in shimmers of gold. She heard sobs as people turned to hug each other. Impulsively, she shifted and pulled Minerva towards her. She held her tightly, breathing in the scent at her neck.

"I've missed you so much," she whispered. She felt Minerva's hands at her waist, and closed her eyes, only to reopen them when she felt Minerva pushing gently at her.

Minerva reached up to wipe a tear track on Hermione's cheek, then pointedly looked over Hermione's shoulder.

"Perhaps we shouldn't leave it so long before we next catch up. You two aren't half the handsome couple, aren't you?" she smiled as she smoothly eased Ron into conversation.

Ron shrugged as his ears turned pink. "She's got the looks. I'm the comedy half of the duo."

Minerva rolled her eyes affectionately.

"I'm sure you have lots to offer each other, and balance out in each other. You've fought your battles, too many of them, now it's time to enjoy. I wish you the very best, as always."

She patted Ron's shoulder, and nodded her head to Hermione as she headed towards Harry and Ginny, only averting her eyes at the last possible second. Had Hermione been able to see anything other than her world crumbling again, she would have noticed that Minerva's eyes were red-rimmed, too.

* * *

_*Present*_

There was less of a gathering this time, and the speeches were a less formal affair of thanking each other, and reminiscing with each other. There was no dais; everyone stood side by side, and cleared a space every time someone wanted to address the crowd.

Minerva announced that food would be served in the Great Hall whenever everyone was seated, and pretty soon only Hermione and Ron remained just within the castle doorway.

"You managed the meeting quite well," Ron said softly, jostling her shoulder. Hermione shrugged.

"I don't have many other options, do I, Ron? Smile and pretend like I'm just another former student," she snorted. "Apparently, it's not even pretending."

Ron placed an arm around her shoulder. He had seen the way Hermione had almost blanched when she came face to face with Minerva just now, after five years. Months of preparing herself had all been forgotten as soon as the Headmistress had smiled softly at them, and he had put a steadying hand on the small of Hermione's back. He also hadn't failed to notice how McGonagall's eyes had almost imperceptibly misted more than they were when she first looked upon Hermione, or how her voice had quivered when she said her name in greeting.

"I'd expected to find you Mrs. Weasley by now," she had said, and Ron, despite his frustration with the woman, had to admire how controlled she was.

Hermione paled, and Ron noticed the darkening of her eyes as if in anger. He stepped in quickly.

"We're not actually-" Hermione's hand on his arm cut him off abruptly.

"We're not decided on the details. Excuse us." Hermione had all but dragged him away, leaving Minerva to stare after them.

"What-" Ron began, but again, Hermione cut him off, her eyes blazing, this time with frustration, anger and tears.

"She doesn't deserve to know! I want her to think we're still together, because I hope… I hope it's making her miserable!"

Ron sighed, and took her in his arms as she sobbed.

Ron watched as Minerva smoothly circled the room after the feast. He saw Professor Flitwick nod and then, had he blinked, he would have missed her whisking out through the doors. He also watched as Hermione's shoulders sagged at the same time as Minerva's departure, even though she was apparently engaged in conversation with Neville. It wasn't long before Hermione wrapped up the conversation, and gravitated towards Harry and himself.

"… So many memories just in this room alone," Harry was saying. Hermione found herself nodding as she joined the tail end of their conversation. "McGonagall's said her farewells," Harry continued in a new vein as his eyes searched out Ginny and the rest of the Weasley's. "I think we'll be off soon. I'll just go around, say my goodbyes."

Ron clapped him on the shoulder and Hermione gave him a brief hug and a tight smile.

Ron raised his eyebrows at Hermione once they were alone.

"Are we going?" she asked, ignoring the meaning behind his look.

"I am, soon," Ron replied. "I think you have some things you need to sort out."

Hermione sighed, raking her hand through her hair.

"She's gone, Ron. I think it's clear that there is nothing to sort."

Ron resisted the urge to roll his eyes and slap his best friend.

"She's gone. I think that's a clear indication that there _is _something to sort,"

Seeing Hermione gearing up to argue, he held up his hands. "Or at least something you need to put to rest, for yourself. Even if you don't speak with her, go and sort it out in your own head, because you can't live another ten years like this."

"Why not?" Hermione asked defiantly. "It's not as if I'm unhappy."

"No," Ron answered gently. "But I'd prefer you happy."

Hermione's eyes bore into his, then, and she softened.

"I'm sorry," she breathed. "For everything I-"

Ron held up a hand to stop her.

"No, 'Mione. We've been there and done all this. You and I… she's not the only reason we wouldn't have worked, we know that. I want you to be happy, because you're my best friend, and I don't want to see you in pain, however dull it becomes, for the next decade of your life. So go, talk to her, don't talk to her. Just try and reconcile yourself. For _your _sake."

Hermione shook her head.

"What did I ever do to deserve you?"

Ron shrugged and smiled goofily.

"Just lucky, I guess."

Hermione gave a watery laugh.

"Cover me?" she asked, heading for the doors. Ron's smile widened.

"Always."

Hermione stood outside the entrance and breathed deeply, the air thick with the threat from the overcast sky. She fumbled with the bag in her pocket, pushed in her hand, and pulled out a bottle of Scotch as she walked. She fingered it as she picked her way along the path, thinking about the same journey she had taken ten years previous, and how different things had been.

With barely a conscious thought, Hermione found herself at the boathouse, standing on the harbour, watching the gentle lapping of ripples over stones. A sob wrenched free of her constricted throat, and it seemed to jolt her into the present. She stared at the bottle in her hand for a long moment, before she heaved it over her shoulder and off into the lake with a strangled scream. She slid down against the wall, and buried her head in her knees.

"The Merepeople will have a cheap night."

Hermione looked up, startled at the presence of another. When it sunk in who the voice belonged to, her jaw clenched even as her insides rode a roller coaster. For a fleeting second, she began to scramble to her feet, then thought better of it, and let her arms fall back around her legs, willing herself to keep her eyes staring off into the distance.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked, monotone. Minerva sighed and run her hand over her face.

"Much the same as you, I expect," she replied softly, staring out onto the lake. "Trying to forget and making myself remember. Or, if you're looking for the literal answer, watching you ruin yet another fine bottle of Scotch."

She glanced at Hermione, watching as the echo of the past washed over her.

She waved her hand in the general direction of the Lake.

"My bottle has already been snatched up. I couldn't face it."

Hermione lifted her head, then, her eyes cold.

"All it will bring is regret and a headache, after all."

Minerva seemed to sink. It was as if she shed a glamour charm and her face became an exhibition of all the years and pain passed between them. She sat slowly down next to Hermione.

For once, Minerva allowed Hermione to see her grapple with a sense of control, as she struggled for words.

"Where's Ron?"

Hermione barely held back a sob.

"Up at the castle, making excuses for my absence and ferrying his family out of here before they come looking for me whilst I fall to pieces, drinking myself into oblivion."

Hermione gestured towards the Lake. "I suppose I need a new plan."

Minerva frowned.

"He'll come for you?"

Hermione let her head fall back onto the wall.

"Not while he thinks I'm looking for you. _"Putting it to rest,"_" she air-quoted.

Minerva couldn't hide her confusion.

"He… He knows? About… what happened?"

Hermione met Minerva's gaze, her eyes challenging.

"Yes."

"And he's… ok with that?"

Hermione clenched her jaw, wanting to lash out, to hurt Minerva as she was hurting. In the end, she got to her feet, standing just outside of the Boathouse as a light drizzle fell from the sky.

"We aren't together. Haven't been for years. About four and a half. He realised we weren't compatible. So did I, but he had the guts to end it, before I dragged him down, too." She wrapped her arms around herself. "And yes, he's… ok with it. He knew there was more of a reason why I wasn't myself, after the war. It took a while for me to admit it to him, a good while after we had split up. We hadn't talked for a couple of months. I cried on his shoulder one drunken night. He's my best friend, he's been there for me."

There was a heavy silence between them for a while, Hermione hyper-aware of Minerva's shaky breathing.

"I… I thought you would be happy," Minerva whispered.

Hermione finally turned to face her, her eyes swollen from unshed tears.

"I tried," she cried quietly. "But you were wrong, you know."

Minerva got to her feet and slowly stepped towards Hermione.

"About what?" Her eyes brimmed with her own tears.

"About having fought all my battles. There was one I gave up that I should have fought with every fibre of my being. When you said, to save my fight for going to capture my life, I should have. I should have held you and never let you go, because… because you have been my life anyway. The shadow of you, always. It didn't get better, I didn't get lighter. I should have fought, and captured you."

Hermione was openly crying now, her eyes devouring Minerva's face as if she'd never see her again. Minerva shook her head, her own tears falling.

"You were so young…"

"Don't! Please, don't dismiss me with that! Tell me you never wanted me, you were caught in the adrenaline, you thought I was someone else, anything but make excuses on my behalf!"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,"

Minerva hesitated in taking another step to close the gap between them.

"For what? I need you to be very careful right now, Minerva, because honestly, you could bring me down in pieces on the floor of this damned building, and I won't have enough fight left to put myself back together. Not again."

Minerva weighed her words, before dismissing them all and launching herself forward, dragging Hermione into her arms and squeezing her tightly into her, her hands pulling and clenching at Hermione's jacket as she tried to get her closer still.

"I'm so sorry for everything," Minerva sobbed. "For walking away, for not listening to what you wanted to say, for not giving you a choice. I was scared; I chose for you because I was scared that I'd ruin you, and vice versa. I've seen too many wars, too many casualties, I didn't want you to be one because of my own wounds."

As Minerva spoke, Hermione's hands slowly wound around Minerva's waist and held on just as tightly as Minerva was, her nails digging into Minerva's sides even through her robes. She cried, hard, as Minerva continued to squeeze her.

"I thought you'd be happier - I _wanted_ you to be happier than I thought I could ever make you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for not giving you a chance."

They held each other for a long while, crying out years of pain and regret. Hermione, waves of agony and anger rolling over her, alternated between clutching fiercely at Minerva and balling her fists into Minerva's side, her sobbing becoming heart-wrenching racks. Each time this happened, Minerva would squeeze her tighter and begin again her mantra of "I'm so sorry, Hermione… I'm so sorry," into Hermione's hair.

When Hermione felt utterly drained of her emotions, she pulled back, trying to collect herself.

"I'm sorry," she finally said, drawing a shaky breath. "It's unfair of me to take everything out on you. I could have fought harder. You weren't to know that I still wanted you."

Minerva shook her head. "I'd already put the lid on you… us. I don't blame you for not trying."

Hermione stared into Minerva's emerald orbs for agonising minutes. Minerva endured the scrutiny, giving Hermione time to construct something that was obviously plaguing her into words.

"Did… _do _you regret what you did? Then? Now? Please, I have to know."

Minerva took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around herself.

"Every single day. Now, more than ever. I was sure it was for the best, but that didn't make it better."

Hermione gingerly took a step towards Minerva.

"I… I don't want us to regret anymore."

Her fingertips connected with Minerva's cheek, and they both gasped softly. Minerva covered Hermione's hand with her own and leaned into the touch.

"Is it too late?" Minerva asked, her voice betraying her fear.

Hermione cupped Minerva's other cheek, bringing herself closer again to the other woman. Her thumbs stroked the tear tracks away.

"I don't know about you, but I don't want to live another minute feeling like I have been the last ten years. So no, it can't be too late, not if we both want this."

Minerva heard the hint of question in Hermione's tone, and closed the last of the gap between them, her lips ever so gently touching Hermione's, the simple touch causing both of them to whimper.

"More than anything," Minerva whispered, opening her eyes to meet intense brown ones.

They moved together at the same time, lips meeting firmly this time, hands weaving through damp hair. They stepped slowly backwards until Minerva was pressed against the wall. All the while keeping eye contact, Hermione worked to divest Minerva of her robe, leaving her clad in a light under-robe. Minerva's stomach clenched as Hermione's eyes turned black. She reached for Hermione, tugging at the hem of her jacket, hinting. Hermione stepped back, and Minerva's heart clenched at the uncertainty in her posture. She moved her hand underneath Hermione's chin, until Hermione met her eyes.

"I'm not going to leave you, Hermione," she stated, firmly. "I'm yours." She laughed through tears. "I never stopped being yours."

Slowly, gently, giving Hermione time to change her mind, she pulled Hermione close to her. Hermione pulled her jacket down her arms and let it slide to the floor. She brought her arms up and wrapped them around Minerva's neck, bringing her in for a long kiss. They explored each other's mouths languidly, hands around each other's necks and tangled in hair. Their kisses became shorter, sharper as the need for more air took over them both. They each wiped at the tear tracks mirrored on their faces.

"I've missed you so much," Hermione whispered, her hands pulling Minerva's hips so that they were flush together.

"Oh, Gods I've missed you, too," Minerva replied, lowering her head onto Hermione's collarbone, making the other woman gasp as her breath tickled her neck.

Their hands worked to divest Hermione of the remainder of her clothing and Minerva's robe, until they were both naked and panting, skin flushed, eyes brimming with tears and love. Hermione brought Minerva's hand down between them, coming to rest atop the heat and wetness. She gasped and arched as Minerva's fingers explored her, as if memorising every inch.

They moved together, hands trying to reach everywhere, until they slipped inside each other and it wasn't long before they were both crying out and shuddering against one another. Minerva opened her eyes first, and felt her heart speed up again at the sight of Hermione resting in her arms. Gently, she held the other woman's shoulders and turned her around.

"Look," she whispered.

Hermione smiled widely, as Minerva's hands began caressing her from behind.

The rain had stopped; the clouds were parting and the sun shone.

* * *

**Sorry it took so long. As always, reviews are encouraged and I hope you all enjoyed.**


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